There was a mini-mob scene at the elevator as a smiling, mustachioed Captain Kangaroo ambled his way into the newsroom. We never left his side. We wanted to touch him, greet him, play remember when. Mostly, we wanted to say thanks.

Thanks for 30 years of being a role model for us baby boomers and our children. For entertaining us, along with Mr. Green Jeans, Dancing Bear, Mr. Moose and Bunny Rabbit. For showing us that behind those famously big pockets was a heart of equal size, and a man who cared deeply about the television program he made for kids.

Keeshan's death Friday at age 76 after a long illness was a sobering reminder of a more innocent time, now all but gone.

"Because it was on so long, it's something you remember as consistent throughout your entire childhood. So the memories are going to be very strong ones.

"But as far as who will replace him, the answer is nobody. Bob Keeshan and Fred Rogers (of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood) were remnants of this kinder, gentler, slower-paced, old-fashioned notion of children's programming.

"There really is no equivalent anymore. Television has gotten hip and fast-paced, a SpongeBob SquarePants-ing of America kind of thing. In fact, there are very few kids shows that continue to have human elements."

In a statement issued by his son Michael, Keeshan's family said, "Our father, grandfather and friend was as passionate for his family as he was for America's children. He was largely a private man living an often public life as an advocate for all that our nation's children deserve."

Born in Lynbrook, N.Y., in 1927, Keeshan joined the Marines in 1945. He began his television career as a page for NBC. He took to the air in 1948, playing a mute, horn-honking clown named Clarabell on The Howdy Doody Show, alongside Buffalo Bob Smith.

"He was put in this clown uniform more or less so he could walk in and out with (props)," recalled one of the show's directors, Howard Davis, 85. "He did that for a little while, then they gave him some bits to do, but they didn't trust him to speak because they didn't trust him as an actor, which is why he always honked a horn."

Keeshan was dumped from the show when he and others in the cast sought more money.

"For a while, he worked for his father, who was an undertaker," said Davis. "Bobby was an embalmer."

He later found more work as a clown on a show airing in New York. That brought him to the attention of CBS, which invited him to submit an idea for a children's program.

Captain Kangaroo was born on Oct. 3, 1955, and became a CBS morning staple until December 1984. Among children's shows, only Mister Rogers' Neighborhood and Sesame Street have been on the air longer. Keeshan also appeared in a version of Captain Kangaroo that aired on PBS until 1992.

His character name was appropriate considering the kangaroo-like pouches that were the captain's pockets. Each day, he and his audience -- and in later years, celebrities -- would exchange "good mornings." On most days, he'd visit with Mr. Green Jeans or Bunny Rabbit or Mr. Bainter the Painter, introduce a Tom Terrific cartoon and check in with Grandfather Clock. Sometimes there would be a Bill Cosby segment and often he would read a book out loud.

As CBS sought to establish a morning-news presence, Captain Kangaroo was squeezed from an hour to a half-hour, then bumped to the pre-dawn hours and finally banished to a half-hour on Saturdays.

Keeshan always said, however, that it was the network's prerogative to program what they wanted, within reason, and it was parents' job to see that their kids watched appropriate shows. He was outspoken about what he perceived as the growing amount of violence in children's programming.

He was like Fred Rogers in so many ways.

"He and Rogers became good friends," said Hedda Sherrapan, an associate producer of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. "They had a ritual of calling each other on New Year's Day. Joanne Rogers (Fred's widow) continued the tradition and called this year."

Keeshan leaves a legacy. He "was one of the great pioneers of children's educational television," said Gary E. Knell of Sesame Workshop. "Through Captain Kangaroo, he laid the foundation for using television to help educate and inspire children across the country."

He was one of the last of his kind.

"What I remember is the sweetness of the show, and the humor," said Dave Palmer, a supervising director of Nickelodeon's Blue's Clues. "You didn't feel like you were being taught, but you were. He was so personable he drew you in. The interaction with the camera is very much like our show."

"He was an eloquent spokesperson for the role of television in the lives of children," said Garth Jowett, University of Houston communications professor. "He also represented one of those individuals who had hope for television in terms of its role in educating kids and as a positive factor in American culture.

"Today, that would make him an anachronism. Television has cynically moved away from specific children's programming -- other than public television -- that is consciously pedagogical or socially positive. So his death represents the death of the golden age, when television was seen as a potentially positive factor in the lives of kids."

Keeshan's wife, Jeanne, died in 1990. In addition to Michael, he and Jeanne were parents to Laurie and Maeve.